Blackbird Song (18)

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
--Trent Reznor--


While Jared's sitting at Jenna's bedside, keeping a constant vigil, he waits. While he waits, Jenna dreams.

In her dreams, it's the first time she tried to escape. Always that failed first time, when she screamed until she thought her throat would rip open from the force of her rage.

The first time she escapes, she gets an idea of just how desperate her situation is.

When she makes it outside, it's snowing. She's barefoot, it's cold, it's snowing, but that doesn't stop her.

She plunges into the snow, running, her heart racing, her feet aching from the cold, but she's outside, she's running and she's outside, and she's going to run all the way back to the life he stole from her.

For the first time in days, she lets her mind think of Jared, she lets herself take a deep, sobbing breath, and she feels that hollowed out part of her chest where she hasn't even let herself think of Jared.

As she's running, she imagines that she's running to Jared. She knows how warm his arms will be.

She doesn't even realize it when she starts crying, and the tears make cold tracks down her cheeks.

She runs, but he ends up catching her anyway.

----

When she fights against him, she can hear him laughing softly.

The sound of his laughter, that he is amused makes her rage come boiling over the top. She hits him, struggles with him, fights against him.

She feels him draw back, and when the needle punches into her arm, she leans forward and bites him

She tastes his blood in her mouth, and even as she's relishing this, her muscles start to sag, and her legs spill her to the ground.

----

Whatever he's given her makes her unable to move, but she's awake and aware.
He picks up her body, carries her back, and when they're inside, he starts to take her clothes off.

She's tried to brace herself for the fact that this might happen. She's told herself that just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it won't happen.
She can't feel the tear that slips down her cheek, but she does feel terror.
She's so certain that he's going to rape her, she doesn't know what to do when he doesn't.

Instead, he's dressing her, putting a coat on her, shoes, and then he's carrying her out to his car.

----

He settles her body into the passenger seat, adjusts it so that she's reclining, and he puts a pair of very dark sunglasses on her.

He buckles her in, covers her with a blanket, and then they're driving.
She can hear the radio, low and unobtrusive. She tries to talk, and finds that she can't. She can't say a word, and the sense of claustrophobia grows.
She can't move, she can't feel, she can't speak.
She can only think.

Worse, that first time, that first time she tried escaping, as her captor packed her up (pretty) to take her to another location, even as they're driving, Jared passes them in his search for Jenna. Mercifully, neither of them ever realize this.

----

While she's reliving her escape, Jared watches the calm set of her face, and he waits.
He waits for her to open her eyes, he waits for her to look at him, he waits for her to see that she's safe. He wants her to know it, to know that she's safe. He wants her to know that it's not just a word, but something tangible. He wants to make it real for her.

He waits to tell her that he loves her, that he is going to live up to the promise of that one word. Forever.

He waits.

----

While he's waiting, he wets her lips with the corner of a washcloth. He wipes her face, he makes her as comfortable as possible, while being careful of her ribs, her back, the scratches on her hands.

As Jared's sitting at her bedside, intent on the rise and fall of her chest, he hears a man clear his throat.

Jared looks over, and it's a cop. It's the cop who found Jenna. Jared can never remember his name, so he just thinks of him as 'the cop.'

He's standing in the doorway, twisting his cell phone in his hands. He looks at Jared and asks, "How is she?" Jared looks down at his hands, fidgets, and with a deep sigh, his eyes on the floor, says, "The same."

Deputy Cole Alston is his name, and he's checked in on Jenna every single day. The deputy has even sat with Jenna while Jared has gone to get a sandwich, or coffee.

After standing in the doorway for a few minutes, Cole finally turns and walks away.

The next day, when Cole walks in, he brings coffee for Jared.
They both sit, watching the steady rise and fall of Jenna's chest.

Jared is starving, so he asks Cole to sit with Jenna while he grabs a sandwich from the cafeteria.

While Cole's looking at Jenna, he wonders yet again how this woman managed to escape. How she managed to live through the hurt enough to keep fighting. He marvels at her strength of spirit, her ability to survive.

He's never heard her speak, but he already admires her.

As he's sitting there, lost in his thoughts, a nurse comes in with a washcloth.
Usually, it's Jared who carefully sponges off her face, talking to her the whole time.

Since Jared isn't there, the nurse gently wipes Jenna's face, her cheeks, her neck. She talks to her as she's caressing that luminous skin. "You're such a pretty girl, Jenna," the nurse says softly, "Will you open your eyes for me?"
"Come on pretty girl, open your eyes," the nurse says.

Deep in her head, Jenna hears that word. The dangerous word, the one she tried so hard to escape. She remembers running barefoot in the snow to escape that word. She remembers locking that word in her cage, along with her captor. She was so sure she escaped that word, that to hear it now is too much.

As the nurse is talking, cajoling, asking Jenna to open her eyes, a single tear tracks down her cheek. Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.

Jenna rises to consciousness, rises to the pain in her body and she can hear someone screaming. She's too disoriented to realize that she's the one who's screaming.

The nurse yells for the doctor, as Jenna is tearing the i.v. out of her arm, as she's flailing and screaming and trying to get away.

As her bare feet touch the cold floor, her legs buckle. Cole manages to catch her, and he can feel her heartbeat jackhammering in her chest. Even as the nurse is sedating her, Cole holds Jenna, and for the second time, she faints into his arms.

Jared enters the room, sandwich in one hand, and his mouth is a shocked o of surprise. He drops his sandwich, and runs over to help Cole hold Jenna up.

Even as she's sagging into their arms, tears streaming down her face, the shot slowly taking effect, she meets Jared's eyes.

She says to him, "I was in the dark --I couldn't find you. I was lost--I followed your voice. I--" and with that, she sobs weakly, her chin resting on her chest.

She takes one deep, hitching breath, and her breathing evens out. She's mercifully unconscious, even as a few tears slide down her cheeks.

Jared picks her up, puts her back in bed. The nurse hooks her back up to the i.v., and they try to put her room back to rights.

----

The next day, in a room full of women dressed in scrubs, Jenna wakes. She looks at a woman in Strawberry Shortcake scrubs and closes her eyes again. The scrubs prove it's a dream.

She doesn't want to look, doesn't want to see. If this is a dream, she'd rather be sleeping.

But she can hear them talking. About her.

She tries opening her eyes again. She feels dizzy, the room is so bright it hurts. Jenna moans and tries to lift her arms.

There's an ache in her side, in her arm and she's breathing hard with the effort. She feels tears wetting her cheeks, and she sighs softly, so that ache in her ribs won't bite her again.

Even as she's drifting off, she hears Jared. With a supreme amount of will, Jenna opens her eyes, finds Jared, and even as she's drifting, her eyes feel like they have weights attached to them, she manages to smile at him.

She hears Jared tell her that he loves her, that she's safe. He tells her that he's here. With remarkable effort, from the world of the unconscious, she tells him that she loves him too. As sleep claims her, there's a small, satisfied smile on her lips.

She dreams again of that room. The one with holes in the ceiling, the holes that let the sunshine pour through.

She dreams of the man who brought her here, and instead of trying to get him to talk to her, Jenna simply sits in the sunshine and enjoys the way it skates down her forehead, kisses the tip of her nose with warmth, and blooms a smile on her mouth.

Even as she's enjoying this little vacation in her dreams, black clouds roll across the sun, taking away the sunshine and her joy.

She looks up, looks into the blackness, which could be compared to the face of her captor. Entirely without sunshine, entirely without light, oh God, he's in that room, he's in that room where she left him -- it's been days, and he's in that room--

Jenna wakes with a gasp, and she starts yelling, yelling at Jared, running her words together. Even as she's gesturing, yelling, setting off the machines that are attached to her body, the nurse on call rushes in, and puts something in her i.v. that makes her unable to talk, unable to move, and she falls back against her bed.

Even as she's drifting off, she tries to hold onto that one thought, her captor in that room, for days with no food, no water. The room he left her in, the room where he whipped her back bloody, where he did unspeakable things to her. Even knowing all that, she tries fighting one last time, tries making herself heard.

No matter what he's done to her, he doesn't deserve to die in that room. In that room, there are no chances, there are no ways out. In that room, he's left with his insanity.

In that room, he's the pretty.



----


next

Blackbird Song (17)

In these broken places, hope may arise.

[Narrator]

Jared isn't prepared when he finally is able to see Jenna.

He isn't prepared for the hurt that has been inflicted on her body. Worse, the fact that she's in a medically induced coma so they could set the broken bones in her arm, and she hasn't spoken a single word, even when she was conscious.

He doesn't know if the broken bones are from the car accident, or something worse. The something worse being her abductor.

The mess of stitches on her back, those he knows are from that bastard, who took it in his head to cut her back open with what looks like a horsewhip.
At the thought of that, at the thought of him hurting Jenna, beautiful, kind, warm, caring Jenna, he feels his jaw clench and his hands roll into fists.

Worse still, the time he put his hand on hers, she flinched in her sleep, and pulled away, a hurt moan low in her throat.

When he talks to Jenna's doctor, and the doctor mentions the worst fear in Jared's heart, his expression changes into something like horror. His worst fear is that he raped her. That he somehow broke her spirit as badly as he tried to break her body.

The doctor assures him that there is no sign of rape, but he lists her numerous injuries until Jared's head reels.

As Jared sits watching Jenna, and not touching her, it's enough to just look at her.
It's enough to know that when she wakes up, he'll be here to tell her that she's safe, that he loves her, and he's going to spend the rest of his life making up for whatever happened.

Jared just wanted to do what he could to take away her burdens, to make them his. In that instant, he prays that she will find the ability to move past this, to get over it, to recover. He promises her sleeping body that he will be with her every step of the way. He promises that when she's at her breaking point, he will be there.

He leans forward, intent on the rise and fall of her chest, the line of her profile in the fluorescent lights, and he starts to sing to her, softly, to ward off those bad dreams. He sings so softly that it's like a caress, and deep in her coma, Jenna hears him. She hears him, and all at once she's searching for him in the dark, searching for him by the sound of his voice.

He sings the only song that would be able to reach her, and as she's just given up on finding Jared in all the dark, she sees him in her dreams.

As he continues singing, he sees her face relax, and one corner of her mouth quirks up, the ghost of a smile on it.

He sees that, and doesn't even realize it when a single tear tracks down his cheek. He just keeps singing, because where ever she is, it may be dark, and he wants her to know he's with her.

next

Blackbird Song (16)

[Narrator]

Today is the twenty-ninth day she's been missing. For the first time since she disappeared, Jared didn't wake with this thought in his head.

When he and Mike set out to canvass some abandoned buildings in the woods, Jenna has firmly made up her mind that it's her time to die.

She's always heard the phrase 'so and so died happy'. She firmly believes that's a crock of shit. Nobody is happy to die. But she's made her peace with death. Death is preferrable to the hell she's found herself in.

This time, when she looks at the door leading out of what he calls her room, and she thinks of as her cage, she sees the door slightly ajar.

Last time, it was a test. Or, more likely, a game.

Last time, blind panic and fear were with her.

This time, she's made up her mind that she will get out of this room, or she won't. The look on her face is something like peace.

If it's her time to die, she's made her peace with it. She'll carry Jared with her. Even though he's miles away from her, Jenna knows he'll be right there with her. She has begun to cry quietly, taking one last time to think of Jared.

She remembers him laughing at her, sitting beside her in the Blackbird, kissing her, loving her.

She knows that he is the great love in her life. He is her love, her heart, her happiness.

She's going to leave this room, and every step she takes is one step she's taking toward Jared, toward home, toward love and sanity and happiness.

She takes a deep breath, wipes her eyes, and slowly opens the door.

----

[Jared]

Since Jenna has been gone, Jared gets one classic rock song after the other stuck on a loop in his head. Today is no exception.

Today's song is Tuesday's Gone, which is one song that makes Jared quiet, withdrawn, and he ends up singing it under his breath as he walks along, looking for Jenna. Always looking for Jenna.

Train roll on many miles from my home,
See I'm, I'm riding my blues away, yeah
Tuesday, you see, she had to be free

Realizing that he was singing out loud, Jared laughs, although he knows that in five minutes time, he'll be singing the same song.

----

Seven hours later, and they still haven't found shit, so they decide to go eat dinner. Mama C has been keeping them fed since the night of Jenna's birthday, and she insists that they both take lunches on the rare occasions she isn't there to fill them up with her home cooking.

As Jared climbs into the passenger seat of Mike's pickup, he gets a call on his cell. It's a number that looks familiar, but isn't saved into his phone.

He answers.

----

[Narrator]

On a long stretch of dirt road, Deputy Cole Alston is running radar. That's his official reasoning. Unofficially, he's texting.

As he reads the latest text message from his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, he sends back an angry reply. He's told her before that he can't always answer her immediately, and they're having this fight. Again.

He's boiling mad, and as he throws his phone into the floorboard (knowing that the next time it chimes with a new text, he'll be picking it back up), he notices something from the corner of his eye.

Something moving in the woods. He sees a flash of white, thinking it might be a deer, and is shocked when he sees it's a young woman.

He gets out of the warm cruiser, and just as it starts to snow, she stumbles toward him, looks directly into his eyes, and faints.

----

When Jared answers his phone, it's Trooper Northcutt. Jared has told himself this call might happen, but he's not prepared for it.

He's so sure that Trooper Northcutt is telling him that they've found Jenna's body, that he says, "Wait, wait, wait." It's all he can say, and when Mike takes the phone from him, he lets it go.

He sits as Mike listens. When Mike hands him his phone back, he twists in the truck to look at Jared. He takes Jared by the shoulders, and says, "Jared. They found her. They fucking found her."

Jared grabs Mike's shoulders, and they both shake each other, whooping and yelling. Jared feels the weight in his stomach lift. He's starving. He's happy, and he can't quit grinning.

Mike guns the engine and they drive toward the hospital.

Goodbye, Tuesday.

----

next

Blackbird Song (14)

In life, there are so many doors to choose from. There are the doors that keep us out, the doors that let us in. There are the doors that open to the dreams we only glimpse when our hearts ache for happier times.

Doors that open to warmth, welcome, love.

Doors that close and bring cold, uncertainty, pain, loss.

The chapters of any life path can be determined not so much by what your doors keep out, but with what you have the strength to let in.

----

[Narrator]

Mike turns out to be a God send. He's not only efficient, disciplined, and highly organized, he has an intensity that keeps both of them going long after they're both exhausted.

Mike doesn't have an ounce of quit in him.

On the second day that Mike joins Jared's search for Jenna, (the thirteenth day she's been missing) he packs them both supplies, GPS, maps, and they continue searching.

They continue searching on the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth days.

And the seventeenth, which somehow turns into the twenty-fifth day.

They plot out their course each day, waking at 5 a.m. and searching until almost midnight each day.

At first, Jared merely tolerates Mike's presence. After their fourth day of searching together (and two weeks since she's been gone) he's grateful for Mike, not just for his help, but his unwavering conviction that they will find her.

Their shared belief that she's alive, the days they both spend searching, their combined exhaustion, all of these factors are enough to make them friends.

----

Twenty-seven days.

It's a Sunday.

Jared has pushed this date back in his mind. He's refused to think about it (or so he tells himself). It's the kind of thought that creeps in at every opportunity. It's the sore place in his heart that his mind just can't leave alone so it will heal.

It's the thought that has nagged him out of sleep, that has ate at him, this is the thought that his frantic mind has worried over, lost sleep over, and it's the thought that urges him on, when he's too exhausted to see.

Today is Jenna's birthday.

----

By mutual decision, Mike and Jared have both decided that this is their day of the week to rest.

Neither of them mention the significance of the date, but it's at the top of both of their minds.

Mike invites Jared over to his parents house, Jenna was close to both of them, (Mama C and Daddy G, Jared thinks) and they were family to her.

He wants to go, because that's what Jenna would've wanted, but at the same time he doesn't want to see anyone. He wants to sit here in this house, he wants Jenna to come home, he wants to tell her he loves her, and he wants to never let her out of arms reach.

He tries getting up, then sits back down.

He stands up again, walks over to the radio, and turns it on. He's dialing through the stations, when he hears a knock at the front door.

Standing outside is Mike's mother. Otherwise known as Mama C.

Jared manages a half-hearted smile, and invites her in.

Before he realizes what's going on, she's marching him towards the door, then towards her car, and telling him that she's taking him to her house for Sunday dinner. This 5'1 woman is marching his 6'4 frame out the door as if he was a wayward eleven year old.

Before he knows it, he's buckled into her passenger seat, and they're on their way to her house.

----

On the drive over, she tells him, "Sugar, she wouldn't want you to be alone. And she's not here to celebrate her birthday. Trying to forget it isn't going to help, either. We're going to celebrate her birthday for her, since she can't. You know that's what she would want."

Hearing her say the words that he's been dreading, Jared nods. He clenches his jaw, and looks out the window, determined not to cry. He blinks back the tears that are scalding his eyes, just barely, then he manages to say, "Okay."

----

At the farmhouse, Jared and Daddy G are standing on the front porch. Mike hands Jared a beer as soon as he walks up, and Jared murmurs a quiet thank you.

Mama C ushers them all into the living room, and tells them that her birthday present to Jenna is this old video Jenna found.

The original video was too badly damaged to play, but Mama C was persistent. She found a place that salvaged the video, and converted it to DVD.

She was telling this story, even as she lowered the lights, and started the DVD player.

On the tv screen, Jared could see baby Jenna. He saw her big brown eyes. Her hair in soft curls, that bounced brightly, as she ran after a dog.

The way she threw back her head, even as a toddler, and laughed with her whole body. He sat there, his heart beating so loudly, he was sure they could all hear it.

He saw her, his love, at the beginning of her life. He saw even then, just how beautiful she'd always been. She was perfect, and good, and true.

She was the kind of person that you couldn't help but like, after meeting her, and the kind of person that you couldn't help but love after knowing her.

And she wasn't here.

She wasn't here to see how much everyone loved her. Jared felt his chest hitch, and something that had been squeezing his heart tore loose. He got up, determined to try to hide his tears, when he ran into Mama C. She pulled him close gently, whispered, "Shhh, sugar. It's okay. Shhhh. You don't have to hide your tears with us."

He wrapped his arms around her, cried soundlessly. The tears poured out of him, and he felt the hot tears wetting her shirt.

Her calm, cool hands soothed him, and after a few minutes the worst had passed. He looked down at his feet, embarrassed, until he saw Mike and Daddy G, both with suspiciously wet eyes.

Mama C took Jared's hand, and sat him beside her at the dinner table.

----

Around the dinner table, it's a glum affair. Everyone is picking at their food, until Daddy G says, "Did I ever tell you about the time Jenna helped me haul hay?"

Jared raised his heard at that, exchanging looks with Mike. Neither one of them had heard this story.

Daddy G continued on, "Yep, It was the summer Mike went down to Ft. Benning to do his basic training. I had the hay baled, and I was looking for some hands. Jenna was here with Cathy, they were making some Sangria, and --"

That's when Mike interrupted him. "Mom! You drank sangria?" Cathy (Mama C, Jared thought) blushed. "Well, Jenna wanted me to try it. It didn't taste like any alcohol I ever had, and it was good," she added defensively. "It made my face warm, and it made me giggle," she said, winking at Daddy G.

He grinned back at her, and then continued on, as if the interruption never occurred.

"Jenna heard me making my phone calls, and she told me she'd help me."

"'Course, I asked her if she had any experience hauling hay, and she just laughed at me. 'Daddy G, I grew up on a farm, she said." "And that was that. I told her to be ready around 4 a.m. and we'd just haul us some hay." He took a drink of his coffee, his eyes wistful, amused.

"When I went to pick her up, she was wearing overalls, had her hair tied up in a bandanna, like some kind of a gangster, and she was wearing a tank top."

Mike, and both of his parents burst out laughing at this last little bit. Daddy G looked at Jared, "Anyone who's ever hauled hay knows that you want long sleeves," he explained. Jared grinned, thinking of Jenna and the way she would help in any way she could. She probably knew that Daddy G would never let her help, especially knowing she'd never hauled hay before. She also knew that he needed her help.

Jared found himself grinning, even as tears burned in his eyes.

When someone like that is in your life, you get used to having them around so much, that if they leave, it gets you in a thousand different ways. Just when you think you've braced yourself, it hits you again.

When Jared looked up from his hands, Daddy G was watching him. Jared could see him waiting to go on. Jared nodded to Daddy G, and he continued.

"She'd said to me 'Daddy G, I grew up on a farm', not 'Daddy G I've hauled hay before," Daddy G grinned at Jared, and Jared shook his head, laughing.

"I told her, 'you're gonna need something to cover your arms, sis, or that hay's gonna rash you up."

"She got herself into some long sleeves, and she brought out a thermos of coffee for me, and some of those bull drinks. Red bulls, I think she called 'em. She gave me one, but it just tasted like cough syrup mixed with sprite," he grimaced. "When we finally got to the hundred acres, I tried to talk her into driving the truck while I stacked the hay."

He paused, for effect. "But you know how she is. She insisted on me driving," he laughed. "She actually did a bang-up job. Once she'd made her mind up to be good at something, she just was," he recalled fondly.

"In fact, she had me convinced that she might've hauled some hay before."

"Anyway, it was about noon, and we'd gotten all that hay put up in the barn. I remember looking back at Jenna, when I turned around, I saw her just fall backwards off the truck."

"I ran around to see if she was okay, and she was jut laying there. She'd managed to get herself heatstroke."

"When she came around," his eyes gleamed mischievously, "She said to me 'Daddy G, I wasn't meant to be a fucking farmer."

Jared and Mike broke up laughing at the same time. Mama C tried to hold out, but she ended up laughing until tears spurted from the corners of her eyes.

A few times, Jared tried to guilt himself into feeling bad, but Mama C was right there to nudge him. Once she even said, "Jared, you know she'd want you to celebrate her birthday for her, since she's not able. She'd be mad at you for feeling guilty." Jared nodded, and Mama C hugged him close.

As the night wrapped up, Jared found himself feelig warm for the first time since Jenna went missing.

For the first time, he felt a part of himself relax. For the first time in twenty-seven days, he could breathe.

Even though he couldn't see her, he wished with all his heart that she knew just what she meant to him.

He wished for her to somehow break free of where ever she was, to find him, to find her way home.

With that wish firmly in his mind as he drifted off, he fell asleep.

----

Jared's wish didn't come true on Jenna's birthday.



It happened two days later.


next

Blackbird Song (13)

[Jared]

She might call. She might.

She's been gone for eleven days and all he has is an ache inside his chest that refuses to go away.

Eleven days, and each day stretches out impossibly long. The hours of no Jenna seem endless.

After he's searched for her all day, he's exhausted, and when he goes home, instead of pacing and plotting out where he's going to look for her tomorrow, he ends up falling asleep. He falls asleep, his head resting on his arms, his arms resting on the map, the map where he's resting all of his hopes of finding her. She's somewhere on that map. He just has to figure out where.

His last thoughts on this side of consciousness are of Jenna. And Jenna. Always of Jenna. And he dreams of her.

----

[Narrator]

His first attention is neglect.

He leaves her in that room with only her broken thoughts, and bruised body.

She thinks of Jared. She can almost see him sitting there with her, telling her that she's going to get out of here. He tells her she's going to be home soon, he tells her to fight, to not give up.

She thinks of Jared, and she pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them closer to her. She hugs her knees and she thinks of how warm Jared's arms feel when they're around her.

She knows that this is bad, that it may get worse, but she holds her determination with both hands. She holds the image of Jared's face close, and it's thinking of him that she drifts off.

It's the first time she's slept, really slept (instead of just drifting in and out of consciousness) in days, and when she dreams, she's far away from these walls.
She's far away from the cold that sinks into her bones, and aches, she's far away from the broken ribs that stab at her each time she breathes, she's far away from the fear that eats into her heart a bite at a time.

In her dreams, she's warm. In her dreams, the circle of Jared's arms are around her, and he says her name. He says her name and he's looking into her eyes, and she's never noticed just how expressive his face is.

She can read every emotion in his eyes. She sees exhaustion, worry, and love mixed together. She feels his tension, and she raises her hand to his forehead, to soothe the lines away.

She hasn't realized that it's been eleven days, because to her, it feels like eleven years.

For the first time since she woke up here, she's happy. She smiles in her sleep, blessedly unaware of where she is. She takes Jared's smile and holds it as she slips deeper into sleep.

Eleven days in, and they share a kiss in their respective dreams. It's so real that they both remember it after waking.

----


[Jared]

When Jared wakes up, it's light outside. It's light outside, and he's wasting time sleeping.

While he's showering, he realizes, with a jolt, that he's slept until noon.

As he's yanking a t-shirt over his head, throwing on the jeans he wore yesterday, he hears someone knocking at the door.

His heart jumps, and tells himself not to automatically think it's her. He tries to bury the hope, but ends up running down the stairs, taking them two and three at a time.

He's racing downstairs, his legs are racing, and his heart is racing, his mind is racing, as he slides into the front door, he sees that it's most certainly not Jenna.

It turns out to be Mike.

He can feel his disappointment weighing on his chest, and he scratches his head, while wondering what in the world Mike could want.

As it turns out, Mike wants to help.


next

Blackbird Song (12)

[Narrator]


Everything in both of their lives comes back to this. Hell.

In hell, time all but ceases to exit.

With no light to determine the time, with no clock to break the time into neat, structured blocks, Jenna finds herself slipping.

When she's finally able to sleep, she finds the lack of knowing just what time it is disorienting. It makes her dizzy, and nauseous. She can sometimes feel it slipping away from her, and it makes her want to scream in frustration. The times she sleeps, she simply loses track.

Minutes, hours, days. There's no way to tell.

In hell, the hour is always none.

In hell, there are no names. The closest she gets is hearing him call her 'pretty'. The sound of that word makes her flinch, grit her teeth.

That word has a reddish feel to it. Tacky, maroon, and it smells like copper. That word tastes like death and ashes in her mouth. It twists her stomach into rolling knots.

Pretty.

Like she's a vase or a rug or a string of pearls. Like she's a goddamn possession.

He says it so often that she hates the sound of it almost as much as she's begun to hate him.

She sharpens her hate against that word.
She loses track of days.
She loses track of time, but it's her hate that keeps her from giving in.

The one constant is that in hell, it can always get worse.

----


It's maddening at first,then infuriating, and finally, a little scary when Jared can't stop hearing In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida playing on a loop in his head.

Hearing that brings his worst fears, and darkest thoughts about what's happening to Jenna to the surface of his mind.

He lies awake hearing the beginning of that song, and imagines Jenna screaming for him. He pictures her dying thousands of horrible deaths.

He sees her face frozen in agony, he hears her begging for her life, he imagines torture so vivid and gut-wrenching that it makes him physically sick.

Hell isn't something that Jenna is going through alone. Jared is right there with her. Not in the same level, but definitely in the same facility.

His torture is being without her. His pain is brought on by the thought of her being afraid, hurt. His agony is thinking that she might give up.

He prays to a God he isn't sure he believes in. He prays for her. He has no idea if God hears him, but he prays anyway.

When he lies there, watching the minutes on the clock glowing in the dark, when he watches three a.m. become four, and four become five, he finally gets up, rubbing his eyes, which feel like they have sand in them.

Jared decides to take a shower, because, yeah, it's been about three or four days, and it's just kind of slipped his mind.

When he gets out of the shower, he doesn't feel better, but he feels clean. When he passes the mirror over the sink, his heart just about jumps out of his chest.

From the steam, he can read one of the messages that Jenna had written on the mirror. When he sees that, it somehow makes it real.

Jenna isn't here to write messages for him to find after he gets out of the shower.

She isn't here to steal his t-shirts or share a coke with him.

She isn't sleeping in or making breakfast or doing any of the thousands of things that made up their relationship.

She's gone.

She's probably hurt, and afraid, and maybe she's counting on Jared to find her.

If their places were reversed, she'd be out there searching for him. She wouldn't give up. She wouldn't sleep. She wouldn't stop until she found him. Impossible just isn't in Jenna's vocabulary.

While Jared's dressing, yanking a shirt over his head, throwing on a few more layers, and stepping into his jeans, for the first time in days, he's stopped hearing that song. For the first time in days, he's got a sense of purpose.

Before he leaves the house, he goes back into the bathroom, and runs the shower until steam floods the room.

He needs to see that message one more time. He needs it, because he isn't going to give up. He's going to find her. He's going to bring her home.

But first, he needs to see that message again. He needs that little bit of her to carry with him.

He stares at it like a man dying of thirst in the desert. He drinks it in. He can almost see her grinning while leaving this message for him.

He takes a deep breath, and walks out.

----

The steam is almost completely gone, and on the mirror, that last note from Jenna.

There's her hand print, and one word.

Forever.




Everything in both of their lives comes back to this.


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Blackbird Song (11)

[Narrator]

When Jared gets home, he doesn't see Jenna's car.

He waits inside for her, convinced that she'll come home.

Any minute, she'll come into the house, bringing a draft of cold air, and an explanation. She'll tell him she was 'just' doing this or that.

Twenty odd minutes later, he's not convinced. She's hardly ever late, and she's never late without calling.

He calls her phone repeatedly, only to have it go to voicemail. Straight to voicemail. Like it's turned off, or dead.

No, not dead, he amends. It's just not charged. He hates himself in that instant for thinking the word 'dead', even if it was only meant towards the battery of a cell phone.

----

That bad, sick feeling returns with a vengeance when he sees a police car pull up to their driveway, as he's pacing in the living room. He sees two troopers get out of their car, and his dread grows when he sees one of them take his hat off, run his fingers distractedly through his hair.

News bad enough for the trooper to leave his hat in the car, that symbol of unwavering authority, that's bad.

The way he runs his fingers through his hair, worse. Like he's steeling himself to deliver a blow. When he looks over at his partner, nods, and they both take deep breaths, Jared is convinced that it's as bad as it can get.

Jared knows from experience, that no matter how much you brace yourself for bad news, it's never quite enough. You can tell your mind to expect the worst, but there's always a part of you that says "It can't really be that bad. Please, don't let it be that bad."

Instead of waiting for them to walk up the stairs and onto the porch, he's taking the stairs two at a time, and running towards them.

[Jared]

"Is she okay?" Somehow I managed to ask. My voice didn't sound like me, it sounded far away, tinny. Canned. The voice of an actor speaking the dialogue of my life. From the next universe, maybe.

When I asked, I saw them exchange a look. That look was enough to make my stomach plummet to my feet.

That look said everything. It said 'It's not okay. In fact, it's pretty fucking bad, but we don't want you to go batshit crazy."

"Mr. Boone," the older of the two said, "I'm Trooper Jakes, and this is Trooper Northcutt. We're here because your girlfriend's car has been in an accident."

----


It felt like being shocked. Like grabbing a frayed electrical wire with wet hands. It was a jolt that went straight to my heart. It was emotional overload, a sick flailing for words that wouldn't come. It was the words can't, doesn't, shouldn't, wasn't, isn't, no, no, no, no, playing over in my mind.

They asked me questions. They had to repeat themselves, but the kindness of these two men, their careful courtesy kept bringing me out of the shock I wanted to drown in.

From what I pieced together, Jenna wasn't dead. They hadn't found her. Not her body, anyway.

There was an accident, there was blood, lots of blood, but no Jenna.

I remember arguing with them, shouting at one point, "You haven't found her body, you just need to look harder!" I kept on in that vein, finally yelling at them that if they weren't going to look, that I was.

I even got so far as to put on my jacket, and grab my keys, when Trooper Jakes put one of his hands on my shoulder.

"Mr. Boone, I need you to listen to me. We found her car. We haven't found her, but," he glanced over to Northcutt, sighed, and continued, "We think she was abducted."


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Blackbird Song (10)

One month later.

[Narrator]

We never know the moments that are going to change our lives. When we wake up in the morning, expecting one thing, maybe just expecting our lives to roll on like they always have, those are the days it happens.

We never know.


[Jenna]

"I think he's going to ask me," I confided. I held the phone away from my ear while Liz got her squeeing out of the way. "Listen, my phone's fixing to die, but I'll call you back as soon as I get home. Yeah, yeah, you're a dirty whore. Love ya too. Bye"

I turned up the radio, which happened to be playing Styx. Renegade. I started belting it out, drumming on the steering wheel, singing with all my might, and just feeling wonderful.

I adjusted the rear view mirror, and instead of seeing my reflection, I saw his eyes. Madman's eyes.

An instant later, I felt coldness against my throat.

"Pull over, pretty," he said, his eyes empty, blank.

"No."

He sliced the blade into my collarbone, the flesh widening into a grin, and I felt the front of my shirt hot and sticky against my skin. But I couldn't make myself pull over.

"Pull over, now," he said, no inflection in his words.

Meeting his eyes in the mirror, I stomped the gas, causing him to slide back into the leather of the seat.

The next instant, his hands were in my hair, yanking my head back, the knife pressing against my throat.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I thought, as I felt the knife cutting into me again.

I mat the accelerator to the floor, and swerved into the tree looming ahead. I know that it probably won't end well for me. I know that, but I know whatever he's got planned for me will be so much worse. You see, I know him. I know that whatever lead him to make this plan, it's going to be so much worse than a few broken bones and bruises.

In this moment, I've made my peace. I may die, but I'm not going to die at the hands of a madman. I'm thinking these thoughts when we hit the tree.

Darkness. Darkness. Darkness.

[Narrator]

As the strains of the song fill the air, dust caught in the headlights, blood dripping down Jenna's face, there's the smallest of sounds.

The rear driver's door opens.

Then, the driver's door.

Jenna doesn't feel her body being moved out of the wreckage that was her beloved Blackbird. She is mercifully unconscious as he grunts with her weight, and starts dragging her away.

She doesn't wake until days later, and when she does, she's in hell.



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Blackbird Song (9)

[Jenna]

Three months.

Three months, and I can't remember life before you.

On our way home, it started snowing. The snow just seemed to glide from the sky, the flakes dancing down, twirling, and I remember asking you if we could pull over.

----

We ended up walking around the park, and when you swept me into your arms and carried me, I remember laughing with my head thrown back, white plumes of my breath in the air.

In that moment, it was just me and you. It was our moment, and I have never loved you more.

----

When we were walking back to the car, hands linked, we met a a woman, so pregnant that she wasn't really wearing her sweater, her belly was straining to hold it in. It looked like a suspended avalanche. She had a little girl with her.

She had gotten her car stuck, she said, and asked us for a ride. Jared, being the white knight he is, offered to get her car out of the mud and ice. He walked with her up the hill, one of his big hands against the small of her back, his other hand guiding her elbow.

As they walked toward the car, he turned toward me, eyes big, and mouthed "Very pregnant." I ended up grinning at his awe, and looked out toward the ice, where snow was building up. It looked like a white carpet across the lake.

I glanced over toward her daughter, all of six years old, and just beautiful. She had this red ball, she kept bouncing it, intentionally ignoring her mother's comments to 'sit here, and be careful while we get the car unstuck.'

I grinned to myself, stuck my hands deep into my pockets, and watched as Jared attached the chain from the Blackbird's trunk to the frame of her car. He got her car out of the mud after only two tries, and was talking to the woman who was profusely thanking him, when I looked over to her daughter.

I didn't see her, or that red ball. I looked over toward the pier, and sitting on top of the ice was that red ball. In all that white, it was hard to miss.

The little girl was nowhere in sight.

It was just sitting on top of the ice, hateful, smug, sucking all the breath out of my lungs. Seeing it, I got the worst feeling. My stomach felt like I had swallowed a hot stone of dread.

I didn't even know I was running, but in the next instant I'd almost reached the pier. As I ran across the planks, I could feel my heart beating so loudly it drowned out all other sounds. I looked down, knowing what I would find, and still hoping, praying, begging that it wouldn't be there.

There was a small hole in the ice.

I did the only thing I could do. I dove in.

The next instant, I was surfacing, gasping from the cold that stabbed into my body. It felt like knives stabbing the breath out of my lungs. I remember sobbing and gasping, and as soon as I was able to get another breath, I dove down again.

Hands grasping, reaching, fingers seeking, I willed my body to find her. I surfaced yet again, long enough to get a breath, then back down.

Furiously my mind was screaming at me "Find her!" "There's no time!" "Find her!"

I surfaced again and again, hands reaching, searching, my mind working against me, screaming at me to find her.

I couldn't feel my feet anymore, they were numb, distant, no longer cold. I dove under, and this time I felt the slippery fabric of a coat.

My fingers closed around that swatch of fabric, and I pulled, yanking her to me, pulling her out of the water.

Jared and her mom were on the pier, Jared holding her back from jumping into the water, while pulling me and the little girl up.

I put her on the pier, face ashen, lips blue, and started CPR. I breathed into her mouth, willing her to live. Live, I thought to her, breathe.

I kept doing CPR, refusing to believe that she was dead. I could feel her mother shaking me, telling me to make her daughter breathe. Screaming at me. Threatening, cajolling, and finally, begging.

I kept on, tears starting to run down my face, because this little girl was still not responding.

I kept on, and it was in the middle of the millionth chest compression that she ended up coughing up a mouthful of water into my face.

It was right about this time that the paramedics came running toward us. They took the little girl (and her mother) and bundled them into an ambulance.

One of the EMTs wrapped me in a blanket at some point that I didn't remember, and now that the adrenaline started to ebb, I felt cold, tired, and I couldn't stop crying.

I looked up into Jared's face, seeing his eyes huge, felt his hands chafing my hands, my shoulders, warming me up.

When I realized what had just happened, I turned away from him and threw up all over that nice EMTs blanket.

----

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Blackbird Song (8) Jenna says...

[Three weeks after the night that never happened]



I'll do it -- I can't -- I shouldn't.

We're at a party together. I hear you telling one of our stories, and it makes me smile. You look over at me, raising one eyebrow, your way of asking if I'm okay, and I nod back.

When your hand grazes mine and it feels like an electric shock, I tell myself that it's accidental, while hoping against hope that it wasn't.

I'll do it -- I can't -- I shouldn't.
I don't.

We end up staying the night with a few of your friends, we've both achieved that state of near perfect drunkenness, where everything is wonderful, and the world is colored with a haze of alcohol that makes everything seem fantastic.

Or maybe it's not the alcohol that makes everything feel that way.

You hug me, and if your hand lingers a little longer than usual, I don't think about it. Or at least, I tell myself that I'm not thinking about it.

I'll do it -- I can't -- I shouldn't.
I won't.

We end up sharing a bed. We both laugh about it, while taking off our shoes and if we lay a little bit too close, it's just because it's cold. Yes, it's cold, that's why we end up laying too close, and sharing a pillow.

When your hand finds mine in the dark, I try to hide my smile, even though you can't see me. I try to hide my smile from me, because it's cold, and maybe your hands are cold. It doesn't mean anything.

I'll do it -- I can't -- I shouldn't.
But I want to.

Tonight, when we're sitting in your truck, laughing, I tell myself that you're a good friend. You care about me, as a friend. You look at me like a friend.

It's hard to swallow down what I'm feeling, but if I turn the volume up on the radio a little, it helps me remember that word. Friend.

I'll do it -- I can't -- I shouldn't.
But it's getting harder.

You only see what your eyes tell you. You think that you're ordinary. But I see everything else, and there is nothing ordinary about you. You shine with such brilliance, that sometimes when I look at you, I feel like my eyes can't handle it. If I could make my mouth say something worthy of who you are, I'd tell you that.

I'm not as broken as you think I am.

I'll do it -- I can't -- I shouldn't.

And then I do it anyway. I tell myself that I'll pretend to be sorry afterwards.

If I have to.


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Blackbird Song (7)

[Narrarator]


His name is Professor Michaels, and he takes a special interest in Jared.

Every great once in awhile, a "Jared" will show up in one of his classes. He (or she) is ornery, witty, charismatic, and in an almost offhand way, like an afterthought, a p.s., a pause, just has this--spark.

For this Jared, mostly, it's in his eyes.
He's early twenties, but his eyes are so much older. As if they've seen things, experienced things that most people his age have to have a few more years on them to comprehend.
He glows more brightly than the rest of the students, and has an answer for everything. He's a wiseass, but he grows on you.

----


[Jared]

Professor Michaels. Man, he was tough. He was tough, but he was fair. Smart as the devil, and persuasive as hell.

He was completely together, laid back, and almost invincible. Nothing got by him. He had this genius mind, and cop's eyes. Those eyes demanded the truth.
He could smell a lie, like a shark scenting blood in the water. Believe me, you'd rather chance the shark. Michaels would cut off your cock and leave you for dead, while smiling his polite, cocktail party smile.

I was late for his class once. Once. That's all it took, even though his class was at the impossibly early hour of eight o'clock. He hated lateness. Said it was disrespectful.

On this particular morning, I was hungover and just hoping to quietly sneak into his classroom, thinking that maybe, just maybe...he hadn't seen me...

As I slipped into a desk, congratulating myself on my sneakiness, his back to me, Michaels said, "So glad you could stop by, Mr. Boone. And that cologne. Magnificent. What do you call that? Is it Anheiser, or Miller?"

I knew that the quickest way to end this was just to tell the truth. "Jager," I sighed, hoping that he'd lose interest in me.

"Very nice. And you wear it so well," his voice not just laced, but dripping with sarcasm, "And what kept your attention so early this morning, that you are," he glanced down at his watch, "thirty minutes late? I'm sure we'd all love to hear what was so fascinating." He folded his hands, and cocked his head, ready to listen.

I tried to think of something, anything, but the only thing that I had in my hungover mind was the truth. So, I took a deep breath and went with it.

"I woke up in the road." I heard a few laughs from the back of the room. Michaels raised an eyebrow, "You're lucky you didn't freeze." His tone indicating exactly the opposite.
I continued on, "I was in a car, with a girl I've never seen. We were both naked. It wasn't my car, but the keys were there, so I drove here."

"The car's still parked outside," I offered.

"Well, I hope you at least covered her body," he remarked, and then went on with the lesson. And that was that.

A few weeks into the semester, he'd become a mentor of sorts to me. He had great insight into the heart of just about anything. He managed to see things, to have this perspective that most people were lacking.

Before I knew it, I'd come to him about the things in my own life. We'd talk, he'd tell me these stories about how he grew up, and I realized one day, that when you meet a man like Michaels, the man who should've been my father, I couldn't call him that. I couldn't make him my father, no matter how much I wanted to, so I did the only thing I could do. I made him my friend instead.

He would've probably said something meaningful, maybe reminded me that family doesn't end with blood. Or maybe if he knew what I was thinking, he probably would've told me he wanted a daughter just like me.

After awhile, I recognized his sarcasm for what it was. That was the way he showed me that he cared.
If he cared about you, you got the sarcasm. If he didn't, you got nothing. On the whole, the sarcasm was much better.

If it wasn't for Michaels, I never would've met Jenna.

Looking back, that doesn't surprise me one bit. The punishment he created with that wickedly logical mind of his managed to give me the one thing I never knew I was missing. Almost as if he planned it. Even better, was the lesson there. That sometimes, out of the worst moments in our life, we find exactly what we never knew we were looking for. Without the pain of regret, the reward of happiness just wouldn't taste as sweet.

Maybe he did plan it. I wouldn't put it past him.

----

next

Blackbird Song (2)

[Jared]

She used to say that she spent most of her time driving around, because it was easier to hear the Blackbird's song that way. She firmly believed in it, as if it was a real thing, something tangible, like wringing water from a wet cloth.

She believed in it the same way she believed that flipping her t-shirt inside out gave it a 'b-side'. As in "I like the a-side of this shirt, but the b-side is much better."

----

The first time she said that particular phrase to me, about the song of the blackbird, I didn't understand what she meant. I just looked at her, gauging her expression, wondering if she was joking. I didn't know then what she could possibly mean by the blackbird's song. Understanding would come later.

----

The blackbird was her baby. It was this shiny, black vintage thunderbird. It was never 'the thunderbird' or 'my car', it was simply the blackbird, or the 'bird. As in "Hey, you wanna go get a few beers? We can take the 'bird."

We spent our weekends driving around in that car, the engine a warm rumbling purr, ready to take us anywhere.

Blackbird time was different than regular time. The time we spent in that car, listening to the wind come in over the windows, listening to classic rock, sometimes singing along, sometimes content to just enjoy the quiet rhythym, why, that time we spent listening to the blackbird. Listening to her song. Jenna said her song wasn't the same for everyone, but if you listened, if you really listened, you'd hear it. Singing just for you.

Sometimes it was looking out the window and falling into your thoughts. Sometimes it was seeing something that made your chest fill up with warm happiness, sometimes being in the warmth of that car was like finding the good things in your life that you'd forgotten you had. The memories that were so long ago, that remembering them was like living them all over again.

Jenna would always say that 'was the power of the Blackbird'. She really believed it. What she didn't realize, what I would've told her, if I could find the words that would make it as beautiful as she deserved was this: it wasn't the blackbird's song she was hearing. It wasn't the blackbird that made that sweetness, like honey and roses and sunshine. No, it was something much more than that. What I wanted to tell her so many times was that there was no Blackbird Song.

That sense of peace that came along on our drives was Jenna. It was always Jenna. That sunshine, that sweetness, was her. She was the warmth of forever. She made you ache in that good way, the way that after the hell you've just been through is over, crying your heart out, only to find it within yourself to laugh, to be filled up, to be made whole.

She was the welcome waiting for you on the other side of the door. She was the embrace that holds you everywhere you needed to be held. She was the feeling of coming home, of loving, of being lost and finding your way. She was like breathing light, she was finding what was lost, she was every good thing you'd never expected to find. She was hope, and truth and everything good and beautiful and pure.

No, that song wasn't the Blackbird's. It was Jenna.

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Blackbird Song: Master Post (1)

The other day, it was snowing. I've always loved the snow, it has a way of blanketing everything, and making it beautiful.

I ended up pulling a chair up to the big window in the living room, and watching those flakes fall.

As I was sitting there, it was almost like I heard a voice. It was small, quiet, but compelling. It (or rather, he) said, "Sal! Hey, Sal. Do you want to hear a story?"

And I did.


----

[Narrator]

The first thing I need you to do is to close your eyes. Sometimes it's easier to see to the heart of things that way, and I don't want you to be distracted. Just close your eyes, and open your heart. Because I want you to listen. There are things you need to hear, and feel.

Listen.

----

[Jared]


I never thought I'd be sitting here, outside of Jenna's house. Just sitting here, trying to find it in me to get out of the truck, to walk up to the door and see her. To look her in the eyes. Trying to find the courage just to look at her.

I won't even try to offer a 'sorry', because that one word never makes things better. Saying it hurts, but having it said to you is much worse. It cuts, and it's never enough.

There are so many things I want to say, but I'll settle for just looking at her. If I look at her, then I'll know if she's happy. I can't say that it won't hurt, and maybe I'll spend the rest of my life looking back and wishing I'd done things differently, but if I know she's happy, I can live with it. I can live with anything if I know that.

----

I remember reading the paper, listenin to my buddy Jack rattling on about his weekend, drinking my coffee, and then paging past the anniversaries, the birth announcements, and seeing her face looking back at me. In the engagement section.

It was like someone had sucker punched me. I was that stunned. All I could hear was my heartbeat, drowning out Jack's words, pounding, as if the silence in my head had been turned up so loud that it was deafening.
Seeing her name, together with another man's name, that was never how this was supposed to work out. I couldn't put the paper down, I read it over three or four times, hoping that somehow I'd misread, misunderstood.

In all the ways I'd pictured it, that had never factored into things. That she might move on, that she might salvage the pieces of her life, that she might make something new, better, something without me, that was something I never even imagined. The fact that it was staring me in the face, coldly, spelled out in black and white made it worse. It made the horror of what can happen real.

I did the only thing I could think to do. I got up, ignoring Jack's questions. I got up, I walked out, and drove until I found myself here. In front of her house.


----

I turned the radio on, hoping for some courage, some song that would set me on my way, maybe something that would calm my madly beating heart.

I remember Jenna, who refused to own an iPod, telling me that she only listened to the radio. "Have you ever noticed," she said, "you can own a cd, but hearing it on the radio makes it sound so much better? It makes you appreciate it. It's a gift."
I smiled to myself, and this is what found me:

When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you
When I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream
I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you
When I go out (when I go out), well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
And when I come home yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you
I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you



With the Proclaimers still playing in my ears, I got out of the truck.

----

Her house hadn't changed at all. I saw some kind of big SUV, but there was no sign of the vintage thunderbird she'd driven when I knew her, about a year and a half ago.

It made me wonder, uneasily, what else had changed.

I walked up to the house, knocked, and waited.
And waited.
Finally, I knocked again.

I walked down the steps, feeling heavy, feeling the weight of the decisions I'd made, and just couldn't bring myself to leave. I walked around to the back of the house, hoping. Hoping that maybe she was out here, reading, lounging, and that I might get a glimpse of her.

----

Walking around to the back of the house, I was sure that she didn't live there any longer. For one, there was a swing set. The Jenna I knew didn't want children. Second, there was a woman with long brown hair chasing around a beautiful little red-haired child. Jenna's hair had always been short.
I felt like I didn't belong in this happy backyard suburban scene. I turned to walk away, when I heard her laugh.

Jenna.

I turned back around, and all I had were questions. When did her hair get that long? Was that her child? Was she babysitting?

I was frozen to the spot I was standing. Frozen, watching Jenna, my Jenna.

She ran after the little girl, grabbed her, and the little girl's laughter joined Jenna's. I stood there and watched them, laughing, happy, whole.

She was happy. Someone was making her that happy, and it wasn't me. Sometime in the time that I had left, she had moved on, she'd healed, and seeing her, seeing what I had lost, it all came flooding back.

When someone like that comes into your life, someone that extraordinary, after awhile, you can't remember what your life was like before. I'd find myself wondering how I ever functioned without her.
Jenna coming into my life was like the scene in the Wizard of Oz, when the tornado whisks Dorothy out of the black and white of Kansas, to the glorious technicolor of Oz. That was what Jenna was to me. She was color, she was life, she was hope, happiness, and joy. I was a man of many colors, but Jenna was the motherfucking rainbow.

I didn't so much feel my heart break, as I felt it rip open. I hadn't really been living since I'd left her. Everything in my life had reverted back to Kansas. Black and white.
I was just a stranger, trespassing on her happy moment, feeling the technicolor of Jenna spilling over onto me.

I felt tears, hot, and scalding on my cheeks. They hurt. I felt every single one, felt them burn, and I didn't care. I lost her. I lost my heart, but more importantly, I lost Jenna.

Nothing had been the same since her. Every good thing stemmed from the love she had created in me. I had myself convinced that I'd moved on, but I'd only been lying to myself. I hadn't moved on, I had only taught myself to forget her, I'd closed off that part of myself.

At that exact moment, Jenna looked up and saw me.

She froze. Tension shaded the lines of her body. She didn't smile.

I don't know how long we stood there, our eyes locked, frozen in that backyard. I only know that one minute I was standing there, and the next I was walking away. Then, jogging, and finally, sprinting for my truck.

I managed to make it inside and slam the door, telling myself "She'll run after you. She'll follow you. Any minute, you'll see her."

After twenty minutes had passed, and no Jenna, I somehow made my trembling hands start the truck.

I drove away, constantly looking in the rearview mirror. Still, no Jenna.

----



[A year and a half before]

Baby you're the only one that's ever known how
To make me wanna laugh like I wanna laugh now





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***Special thanks to my good friend, Jerrod, who encouraged me, read my drafts, and gave me the courage to write this